Caring

People often ask me why I care...about their problems, about their lives, about their statements, or their emotions. And oftentimes I am completely at a loss of what to say. But when I really sit down and think about it, it's quite simple. I am fascinated by people. They intrigue me more than anything else in the world. While on the one hand that is extremely logical, on the other, it seems perhaps overstated.

I love people's lives, I love their stories. I love everything about them. I enjoy knowing that people place their trust in me and that I can help them to work things out. But perhaps the thing I love most about it all is that when I think about other people's problems, I don't have to think about my own. The past year was full of mistakes for me. So suddenly, I'd much rather take a step back and look at the lives of those around me.

In a way, it's harder to constantly be talking to people and ignoring myself. But at the same time, I would much rather do it that way. It's less painful to myself and more rewarding as well. Worrying about other people is better than worrying about myself. And I've been told (although I don't necessarily believe it) that I am valued for this trait. It seems ironic perhaps, that I am valued for not valuing myself. Alas, it is what it is. I prefer other people's lives and stories to my own. I prefer to be a board for them to bounce ideas off of rather than throwing thoughts at them. It's merely the way I am. And I guess I've come to like it that way.